


Xenonymphomania

by Olfactory_Ventriloquism



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olfactory_Ventriloquism/pseuds/Olfactory_Ventriloquism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every one has a different definition of "insanity", and truly crazy things can happen when those ideas collide with the Doctor's party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact # 1: I had intended to call this Xenonymphosis, but I wasn't thinking when I first posted it on lj, and didn't reckon I could fix it.  
> Fun fact # 2: This came about from a convo with Jessa L'Rynn about some of the more interesting disorders in the DSM-IV-TR. I need a copy of the DSM-5 to see if they're still in there.

Captain Jack Harkness, who had never been officially defrocked, was worrying about being decapitated. He tapped his toe nervously against the chrome bar of his cracked pleather stool. His fingers beat an uncomfortable rhythm against the side of his glass of Kyperian whiskey, making the ice clink against the side.

 

Around him, the typical noise of a bar on any human settlement had returned from its brief sabbatical. Jack would normally be soothed by the raucous laughter, tipsy giggles, and idle gossip punctuated by the occasional thump of someone who had had one too many falling face-first. But, at the moment, he was too busy to even notice it. The irony that he was wasting time calculating how much time he had left to live did not escape him.

 

Staring at the door where men in clichéd white jackets had dragged one infuriated but drugged Rose Tyler out of the bar, Jack watched the blue tint fade from the world around him. When it was gone, Jack knew that the protective barrier he’d been encased in by the cops was gone, and he was free to move properly, rather than just fidget.

 

After popping his wrist and stretching his shoulder, both of which had cramped during his imprisonment, Jack downed his drink, now abysmally watered down, tossed a few grey bills on the bar and trudged reluctantly out of the door Rose had been dragged through.

 

“He’s going to murder me.” Jack muttered gloomily to himself.

 

*

 

The Doctor’s hackles were up even before Jack slunk into the TARDIS unaccompanied. The Doctor had only come to this dwarf-planet because he knew he could get mercury cheaply from the mines here, and he needed some to fix the thermostat for the engine’s core temperature. No digital temperature gauges could withstand the heat properly.

 

Still, he didn’t like the idea of Rose running loose on this settlement, even though they were all human. The mercury in the area had effected the population. He knew better than to tell Rose to stay in the TARDIS, since she’d never stand for him being high-handed, not his Rose. But, he didn’t want her around the actual miners, since they were worse than the other settlers and were all quite a bit madder than any hatter had ever managed to be.

 

Telling her to stick close to Jack and be careful, the Doctor had left Rose to explore after a fierce hug and a glance at Jack that told the Time Agent exactly how much it would suck to be him should anything happen to Rose.

 

When he got back to the TARDIS before them, dusty, sweaty, frustrated from hours of negotiation, but triumphant, the Doctor had known something was wrong. He told himself to relax, that they would be along shortly as there wasn’t much in the way of either entertainment or shopping in this mining town. He paced for a time, waiting to hear the snick of a key in the lock.

 

The TARDIS soon tired of this routine as placed a piece of piping in front of him, causing him to trip. The Doctor righted himself in a huff. In glaring down at the pipe, the Doctor realized that his jumper was in a state of ragged disrepair. It was not only covered with dust and splattered with mud, but there was a small hole which had been worn in the fabric by the crate he’d carried the mercury back to the TARDIS in.

 

He might as well get a shower and change so that he wouldn’t look a complete mess when she got back. He paused mid-stride to wonder just when he started caring what his companions thought of his state of dress. Ignoring the part of his brain that reminded him of how soon after he’d met her for the second time he’d examined himself in the mirror, the Doctor hurried towards his room, pulling the ruined jumper over his head as he went.

 

When he emerged, the Doctor tried not to be surprised to not hear the voice of either Rose or Jack. He threw an entreaty towards the TARDIS, hoping good news. His jaw clenched when he learned they hadn’t come back yet. He barely paused to pull on socks and boots over his still damp feet before charging towards the consol room.

 

Dials whirled, switches flipped, and buttons depressed under his quick fingers as he searched the town for Rose and Jack. He’d refused to show Rose some Spock in London, but this time speed was important. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself for wasting time.

 

The sound of a key in the lock.

 

The Doctor spun away from his scan, desperate to see Roe stumble in, laughing. Instead, Jack came in alone, wincing as soon as he saw the Doctor standing there.

 

“Where is she?” the Doctor demanded, not caring how needy he sounded.

 

“They took her. The government did. It seems that, because of all the mercury in the area, this city has a very…proactive welfare system. If they decide you’re sick, it doesn’t matter what you think, you will be treated. Men in white coats came and carried her off.” Jack was speaking quicker than the Doctor thought was humanly possible, but he was grateful for the speed. It was clear that Jack had had to give reports before when time was short. The Doctor had never thought he’d be grateful for the Time Agency’s training.

 

“Why didn’t you stop them?” the Doctor interrogated, eyes blazing. “I told you to protect her.

 

“I couldn’t move!” Jack protested. “Some one must have reported us-“

 

“For what?” the Doctor interrupted. If one of Jack’s antics had gotten Rose in trouble…

 

“I don’t know!” Jack snapped, but there was some doubt in his eyes. “They said they were taking her to the loony-bin of all places! All we were doing was talking!” That much, the Doctor could tell, was true. “Anyway, they came in, guns blazing, and before I know it, I was in one of those timed immobilization force-fields. They drugged her, and carried her off way before the force-field wore off. Said they’d let her go when she was better, whatever that means. As soon as I could move, I came to get you.”

 

The Doctor gave Jack a curt nod and grabbed his jacket, heading out the door. Jack trotted along behind him.

 

“Where are we going?” Jack asked.

 

The Doctor didn’t break stride, just kept on pushing towards the center of town. “I’m wondering if the hospital here could use another doctor.”

 

*

 

White light speared through the slit in Rose’s eyelids. She scrunched her face up and blocked it with her hands. When the pain receded, Rose cautiously opened one eye, then the other. Looking around, she noticed that she was lying on a mattress of the floor of a calm blue room. It wasn’t the first prison to worry about decor that she’d been in, and she knew better than to take it as a good sign. Some of the most horrendous things she’d ever seen had occurred in a room that was designed by a feng shui master.

 

She pushed herself into a sitting position. A sheet was draped over her which she balled up and threw on the ground, careful not to touch the walls or floor. With the sheet lying, unharmed, on the floor, Rose noticed that she was wearing what looked to be a pair of maroon scrubs. Her clothes, shoes, jewelry, even her TARDIS key were gone. On closer inspection, Rose realized that her bra and knickers had been removed as well.

 

Hoping that the safe sheet meant the floor wasn’t booby trapped, Rose sprang from the bed, infuriated. The cold floor did nothing more insidious than chill her feet. “Oi!” she screamed at the door that was unsurprisingly locked. “Who’s the perv who took my stuff? Try that when I’m awake, you wanker!”

 

There was no response. Rose let loose a few more choice words before settling herself on the mattress to see what she could do. Not all prisons fed their prisoners, and she would need her strength for a jailbreak.

 

While she was going over her assets, a very short list, the door clicked calmly open. A plump, middle aged woman with graying chestnut hair shuffled in. She clutched a clipboard protectively to her chest.

 

“Hello. I’m nurse Roberts. Can you tell me who you are?”

 

“Where am I?” Rose demanded.

 

“You’re with friends. We just want to help you get better. If you can tell me who you are, it’ll be easier for us to help you.”

 

The Doctor had once told Rose to give her name if she were captured; it made it easier for him to find her. “I’m Rose,” she said sullenly.

 

“Do you know why you’re here, Rose?”

 

“I don’t even know where here is,” Rose snapped.

 

“You’re at the hospital.”

 

“The hospital? But I’m not sick!”

 

Yes,” the nurse said gravely with a bit of disgust. “You are.”

 

*

 

Rose came back from her first session of therapy, working hard not to give into hysteria. Who would have thought she would be literally certifiable for loving the Doctor. She’d known it was crazy for her to love the Doctor when he obviously couldn’t love her back. She’d known she had nothing to offer him. But she’d never thought anyone would call her on it.

 

She didn’t believe it at first, but the doctor had pulled down an enormous tome labeled “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders volume XI” and had shown her the page that said, when translated from a mixture of medical speak and legalese, that wanting to have sex with an alien meant she was crazy.

 

It was all she could do to not grab him and shake him yelling “Have you seen him? How can you not want to shag him into the ground?!”

 

Still fighting this urge, Rose allowed herself to be escorted back to her room. The absurdity, the surreality of it all must have gotten to her, because she almost thought she could hear the Doctor’s Northern accent echoing down the corridors.

 

*

 

It had been decades since the Doctor had done proper undercover work. Simply refusing to tell people that he’s an alien that had come to save their simple little lives wasn’t the same as being undercover. At least, it had been decades before Rose came along. Before he met her, he’d gotten into the habit of simply going where he needed to be, blowing up the building, and not even meeting the people he was saving. As soon as she came on board, he’d managed to slip back into the patterns of introducing himself, though he still hadn’t gone undercover long term.

 

It was a pain having to force himself into a hole that needed filling in these people’s lives, and he was fortunate that this lot had been dreading the arrival of an inspector from the hospital in the capital. Still, it needed to be done. As tempting as it was, incapacitating the guards, kicking in the door and carrying Rose back to the TARDIS wasn’t an option. She could have been put on any of a number of medications, depending on what they thought was wrong with her. As if there was anything wrong with his Rose.

 

Some of the medications they could put her on she would need to be weaned off of, and some could prove toxic and would need to be flushed out of her system. The Doctor needed to know what she was on, if anything, before bringing her home, or he could kill her. And the only way he could know what medications they gave her was to gain access to her charts.

 

Proper undercover operations took a patience and a subtlety he lacked, this regeneration. In years long past, the Doctor had been known to wait weeks, even months for information, all the while pretending to be something else. Tonight, however, all of that was forgotten. Whether it was that this Doctor of leather and boots couldn’t be bothered, or whether it was that every minute spent waiting was one more minute with Rose being locked away from him, the Doctor didn’t care to discover.

 

This wasn’t the first time the Doctor had been afraid of the truth, and, as long as Rose was around, it wouldn’t be the last.

 

When he strode into the hospital’s lobby, the Doctor mustered all the arrogance that was his birthright. He could see surprise and anxiety blossom in the staff as they noticed his bearing was that of a man who owned all he sees. Assumptions and whispers were flying before he reached the receptionist. Due to his superior hearing, which these stupid apes couldn’t think to anticipate, the Doctor knew everything to say.

 

“I’m from central. I need to see the chief of medicine.” He snapped, not even bothering to look at the person before him.

 

The young man half saluted before scurrying off, muttering, “Yes, sir. Right away.”

 

The Doctor’s heavy soles banged on the tile floor impatiently while he waited. Time lords weren’t supposed to fidget when upset (hell, they weren’t supposed to get upset), but the Doctor was beyond caring. If tapping his foot kept him from grabbing the chief of medicine by the throat and demanding to know how they could think anything was wrong with Rose, then he would tap away. Besides, this obvious impatience was unsettling the staff, and unsettled people were less likely to question his story.

 

A slightly overweight man in his late fifties came rushing through the door, his face red. He stopped, panting, and straightened both his tie and his back with assumed dignity. He patted his receding hairline, pushed his glasses up his nose and walked up to the Doctor with a brittle air of calm.

 

“I’m Dr. Shote,” the man said, holding out his hand. “And you are?”

 

“Unimpressed,” the Doctor replied tersely, ignoring the man’s proffered hand. “But if you must address me, I’m Doctor Smith. I want you to walk me through your admissions process. Let’s start with the last person you admitted.”

 

“Yes, sir. We just got her name. She says she’s Rose Tyler. It’s a very interesting case.”

 

*

 

As was to be expected, Jack took a less direct route to gaining information on Rose’s condition. A small troupe of nurses was standing outside the hospital, gossiping and smoking.

 

Turning his charm on full measure, Jack sidled up to the group. “Ladies,” he began. “Sir,” he added to the one male nurse after a quick but thorough look over. “Captain Jack Harkness with the news.” It was vague, as he didn’t know what form of news they had here, but Jack delivered his line with confidence and a saucy grin. They were already practically eating out of his hand. He’d almost forgotten the rush of a good con.

 

Pulling out a small notebook and pen, Jack addressed them with a shade of professionalism. “I heard there was a bit of a to-do down at the bar, earlier tonight. Some of your doctors had to bring someone in? Can you tell me about it?”

 

“Well,” one began with a coy smile. “The bartender called us. He’s been trained to let us know if the mercury is getting to someone.  Well, this girl who was there was talking to some man.” Jack didn’t bat an eye at a mention of himself. The nurse opened her mouth to continue, but another interrupted, eager for a turn in the spotlight of Jack’s attention.

 

“She obviously had a sexual disorder, and was crying about it to that poor man.”

 

“Sexual disorder?” Jack asked. “Oh, people will love that! What kind?”

 

“She wants to sleep with an alien.” The male nurse drawled.

 

It took everything in Jack not to laugh. Fortunately, he was a professional, and thus, he simply asked a question that any reporter would ask in follow up to that statement. “Any alien?” He asked casually, glad the Doctor wasn’t there to kill him.

 

“No a specific one, apparently. Some one she travels with, but only ever refers to as ‘the Doctor’.”

 

In order to save his ability to keep a straight face, Jack pushed the thought of the Doctor learning this information to the corner of his mind, and changed the subject slightly. “Why is it considered a disorder for someone to want to have sex with an alien, when the Japanese had pornos with sea-creatures and such with tentacles as far back as the late twentieth century?” He asked, struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice.

 

“If it causes the patient marked distress, than it is classified as a disorder. In most people, the desire to have sex with an alien is either a passing fancy or something that they’re okay with, but when it causes someone to break down in public, than it’s something a bit more serious.”

 

“There are other things like that,” a blond nurse said. “Did you know that premature ejaculation can be considered a psychological disorder?”

 

“I’ve never been in a position to find out.” He told them with a smug smirk that made the whole group giggle. “But enough about me, what about this girl? How will she be treated?”

 

“Well, something like that can’t be treated with medicine. Not really. She might be put on an anti-depressant temporarily, and if she continues to be difficult, she might need to be sedated for her own safety, but mostly she’ll need therapy to help the underlying causes of her distress.”

 

“How long will that take?”

 

  
“Each case is different.”

 

“Well, I only have one more official question. What if she still wanted to shag this ‘Doctor,’ but was no longer distressed about it? If, for instance, she and this Doctor were to hook up?”

 

“She’d be free to go. We’re not here to pass judgment. We just want to ease her pain.”

 

A whistle sounded and all the nurses stubbed out their fags and scurried off. Except for the male nurse.

 

“What’s your last question?” he asked Jack with a knowing smile.

 

“How do you know I have one?” Jack asked with an answering smile.

 

“You said you only had one more official question. So, what is it you want to know off the record?”

 

Jack’s smile became slightly predatory. “What time do you get off tonight?”

 

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

 

“Perfect.”


	2. Chapter 2

All the windows in Rose’s room, from the small one on the door to the two average sized ones on the wall on the outer side of the complex, were made of bulletproof glass. After her first, and so far only, therapy session, Rose had been classified as calm enough to be moved out of the “quiet room.” Rose had been proud of herself for not attacking the doctor who’d ordered her put in a place named after a type of time out for 6 year olds.

 

Although she was alone in this room, too, at least Rose was allowed to have most of her clothes back. They still wouldn’t let her have her shoes or TARDIS key back, because she could hang herself with the chain or laces.

 

Though they didn’t know it, the nurses had made two tactical errors when they gave her back her clothes. One, they had let her learn where they kept her effects; and, two, they didn’t know she had a secret pocket.

 

After being stuck in prison for three days because the Doctor had been in a healing trace after being stabbed in the lung, Rose had insisted on being taught to pick a lock. So far she could pick almost any mechanical lock, and the Doctor had been teaching her how to get past electrical locks. Under the Doctor’s tutelage, every prison had become a learning opportunity. And, after being imprisoned for nearly a week because the jailers had been smart enough to take the Doctor’s jacket, Rose had insisted again, this time on having a way to keep her lock-picking equipment with her. While most prisons would pat her down, even turn out her pockets, none of them would expect the tiny fifth pocket of her jeans to be bigger on the inside. And this was actually the first place that had her stripped of her trousers. There were surprisingly few jails in the universe that forced its prisoners to wear nothing but their underwear, or nothing at all.

 

There were times when this disappointed Rose.

 

Rose walked over to the door and examined the lock. It was set up like the doors in her high school. One side never locked for easy access. The other only ever unlocked with a key. Since patients’ belongings were searched, they didn’t think that anybody would be able to pick the lock.

 

She could see why the door was designed this way: if the nurses, techs, or doctors needed to get in quickly because a patient had hurt themselves, they didn’t have time to fumble with keys. However, they needed patients to not go wandering around, so the inside must stay locked. Still, what an embarrassment if someone on staff managed to get themselves locked in, so the keyhole was on Rose’s side of the glass.

 

A cursory examination told Rose she could pick the lock in less than two minutes. Still, best not to stage a jailbreak for a few hours, yet. Let them relax in the night, thinking she was asleep.

 

To that end, Rose lay on the bed and closed her eyes. To keep herself alert, she shifted frequently, not letting herself grow too comfortable. And if she tossed and turned more than most, with any luck it would be assumed to be the disturbed sleep of the mentally disturbed.

 

*

 

“As you know,” Dr. Shote was saying. “We have to be particularly vigilant in this part of the world due to the mercury mines.” The Doctor hmmed non-committally. “We have regular sessions teaching people what signs to look for in each other.” The Doctor chose not to comment on the fact that this trained people how to hide their own insanity.

 

“This evening,” Shote continued. “We got a message from the bartender that one of his patrons was openly displaying symptoms of distress.”

 

“But despite your seminars,” the Doctor interrupted, frustrated. “He isn’t a psychologist. He can’t make a definitive diagnosis.”

 

“Of course not.” Dr. Shote agreed smoothly. “We sent out one of the doctors to evaluate the situation. He quickly reported back that this girl was indeed in need of help. So we sent in a retrieval team.”

 

“Retrieval team?” The Doctor felt his hand clench into a fist involuntarily. He stuffed it into his pocket and continued his ruse. “What is the protocol of that?”

 

“Our primary concern is that neither the patient, our doctors, nor any bystanders come to harm. To that end, our first action is to chemically restrain the patient from a distance.”

 

“Tranquilizer dart,” the Doctor translated blandly, fury beginning to narrow his vision. Everything Dr. Shote said he’d already been told by Jack, but to hear this toadying little man so calmly speak of assaulting his Rose was enough to eat at his self control.

 

“Indeed,” the psychiatrist continued, ignorant of the battle taking place in the Doctor. “Also, since her companion might object to our taking her we temporarily immobilized him. The force field will have worn off by now. After that, it was a simple matter of extraction.”  


“And the patient? Has she woken up, yet?” the Doctor asked, vowing to himself that if sedatives from this time period had hurt her, this building would be destroyed in literally biblical proportions. He would personally assure that no brick stood upon another.

 

“She has woken and is talking. Her name, as I’ve said is Rose Tyler. She’s being very cooperative.”

 

Despite himself, a curiosity sprung up in the Doctor, “What’s the diagnosis?”

 

“Oh, something I haven’t seen in years. She has acute xenonymphosis.”

 

The Doctor blinked and slightly shook his head. For the first time, everything seemed to have stopped. He couldn’t feel the flow of time, or hear anything but his own heartbeat, and whatever he was looking at failed to register.

 

The Doctor licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed thickly. Praying to every deity he’d ever heard of that he wasn’t misunderstanding, the Doctor asked. “What’s the primary symptom of that disorder?”

 

“Oh, exactly what it sounds like. Rose wants to have sex with an alien.”

 

Before the Doctor’s neurons could remember how to fire, an alarm sounded.

 

“Shit!” Dr. Shote muttered, glancing nervously at the man he believed came from the capital.

 

“What’s that?” the Doctor asked.

 

“A patient has escaped.”

 

*

 

Rose got back to the TARDIS easier than she’d expected. One of the two techs on duty had told the other as he passed Rose’s room that he was going to grab dinner. The other said she’d join him in the break room in 5 minutes. After ten minutes, Rose knew that her TARDIS key was unguarded.

 

It was the work of a moment to jimmy the lock on her door. Having escaped from more places than Houdini, Rose was confident as she hurried down the hall to the room where her shoes and key were still held.

 

After dropping her key around her neck, its warm familiar weight between her breasts a welcome beacon home, Rose pulled her shoes on, hopping in her haste. She glanced up and praised whoever invented the emergency exit signs. A quick examination of the adjoining hallway directed her to a door saying not to open except in emergency as an alarm will sound. She flippantly decided that a misdemeanor being added to her record on this rock would hardly matter as she never intended to come back.

 

Longing to get back to the TARDIS’s welcoming hum, Jack’s rakish smile, and the Doctor’s warm hug and manic grin, Rose pushed the door open. But before her hand touched the door, an alarm sounded. Ignoring it, Rose opened the emergency exit. A different siren began to blare and lights to flash.

 

Not heeding either alarm, or maybe heeding both, Rose ran into the night, dodging into alleyways and darkened streets.

 

*

 

Almost as soon as the first siren sounded, another flared up.

 

“Well, what’s that one, then?” the Doctor demanded. His temper was as short as it had ever been, since these stupid apes had stolen his Rose and lost her in one night. Plus, his head was still reeling from Rose’s indirect admissions, but he hated to admit that such base considerations held sway over him.

 

“Fire alarm,” Dr. Shote said reluctantly. “It’s likely that whoever escaped used an emergency exit to leave.”

 

The Doctor almost laughed aloud. At least Rose was out of this place. “Tell ya what,” he told the miserable psychiatrist. “I’m gonna go to my hotel, say I got stuck in a traffic jam and didn’t get in ‘til after midnight. You get this place quieted down, and I’ll see you in the morning. Pretend I didn’t see all this.”

 

Relief suffused Shote’s face, and the Doctor turned on his heel sharply, no longer having any use for the man. He kept his pace in check as he left the building, but as soon as he felt a breeze on his face, the Doctor broke into a run, making a beeline for the TARDIS.

 

Boots bent woodenly on the pavement. The odd puddle splashed resentfully as he ran heedlessly through them. Street lights were few in an attempt to encourage the citizenry to stay inside at night. But the Doctor was blind to the dark, deaf to the rhythmic pounding and immune to the cold water that splashed his leg. All that mattered was getting to his Rose.

 

Rose had proven how clever she was from the day he’d met her. She’d be heading back to the TARDIS, the only safe place on this miserable rock.

 

He heard a brief patter of feet up ahead and the slam of a wooden door. A brief chide hummed in his mind, though it wasn’t directed at him. To know that the TARDIS deemed Rose healthy enough to be reprimanded for something as trivial as slamming doors did a lot to ease the Doctor’s mind. Had he been in a more playful mood, the Doctor likely would have pretended to be cross with Rose for not treating his ship better just to make her squirm, but he couldn’t play with her, not now.

 

Slamming the door himself, the Doctor ran up the ramp. Rose turned from the console in surprise, relief, and what the Doctor now knew was more than mere affection. He had been hoping for so long now that Rose felt for him a small portion of the heart crushing love that he had been concealing from her, that he had convinced himself that he only saw what he was looking for.

 

He swept her up in a hug, running his hands across her back and down her sides to make sure she was unharmed.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

“What for?” Rose asked, pulling back to search his face.

 

“I got you locked up, again.”

 

“I did that all on my own, thanks.”

 

“No. They thought you were crazy,” the Doctor said mournfully. Rose began to look worried, probably wondering how much he knew. “The only crazy thing about you, Rose Tyler, is that you didn’t realize that I spend a large portion of every minute of every day wishing that I was brave enough to make a move, to tell you how I worship every inch of you, or to simply give in and finally learn what your lips taste like.”

 

For a long time, Rose stood motionless, staring at him. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her heart pounded against his chest. Finally, she licked her lips, a movement that he followed closely. “God, if this is some sort of drug-coma dream, I never want to wake up,” she told him fervently, before pulling him down to devour his lips.

All the windows in Rose’s room, from the small one on the door to the two average sized ones on the wall on the outer side of the complex, were made of bulletproof glass. After her first, and so far only, therapy session, Rose had been classified as calm enough to be moved out of the “quiet room.” Rose had been proud of herself for not attacking the doctor who’d ordered her put in a place named after a type of time out for 6 year olds.

 

Although she was alone in this room, too, at least Rose was allowed to have most of her clothes back. They still wouldn’t let her have her shoes or TARDIS key back, because she could hang herself with the chain or laces.

 

Though they didn’t know it, the nurses had made two tactical errors when they gave her back her clothes. One, they had let her learn where they kept her effects; and, two, they didn’t know she had a secret pocket.

 

After being stuck in prison for three days because the Doctor had been in a healing trace after being stabbed in the lung, Rose had insisted on being taught to pick a lock. So far she could pick almost any mechanical lock, and the Doctor had been teaching her how to get past electrical locks. Under the Doctor’s tutelage, every prison had become a learning opportunity. And, after being imprisoned for nearly a week because the jailers had been smart enough to take the Doctor’s jacket, Rose had insisted again, this time on having a way to keep her lock-picking equipment with her. While most prisons would pat her down, even turn out her pockets, none of them would expect the tiny fifth pocket of her jeans to be bigger on the inside. And this was actually the first place that had her stripped of her trousers. There were surprisingly few jails in the universe that forced its prisoners to wear nothing but their underwear, or nothing at all.

 

There were times when this disappointed Rose.

 

Rose walked over to the door and examined the lock. It was set up like the doors in her high school. One side never locked for easy access. The other only ever unlocked with a key. Since patients’ belongings were searched, they didn’t think that anybody would be able to pick the lock.

 

She could see why the door was designed this way: if the nurses, techs, or doctors needed to get in quickly because a patient had hurt themselves, they didn’t have time to fumble with keys. However, they needed patients to not go wandering around, so the inside must stay locked. Still, what an embarrassment if someone on staff managed to get themselves locked in, so the keyhole was on Rose’s side of the glass.

 

A cursory examination told Rose she could pick the lock in less than two minutes. Still, best not to stage a jailbreak for a few hours, yet. Let them relax in the night, thinking she was asleep.

 

To that end, Rose lay on the bed and closed her eyes. To keep herself alert, she shifted frequently, not letting herself grow too comfortable. And if she tossed and turned more than most, with any luck it would be assumed to be the disturbed sleep of the mentally disturbed.

 

*

 

“As you know,” Dr. Shote was saying. “We have to be particularly vigilant in this part of the world due to the mercury mines.” The Doctor hmmed non-committally. “We have regular sessions teaching people what signs to look for in each other.” The Doctor chose not to comment on the fact that this trained people how to hide their own insanity.

 

“This evening,” Shote continued. “We got a message from the bartender that one of his patrons was openly displaying symptoms of distress.”

 

“But despite your seminars,” the Doctor interrupted, frustrated. “He isn’t a psychologist. He can’t make a definitive diagnosis.”

 

“Of course not.” Dr. Shote agreed smoothly. “We sent out one of the doctors to evaluate the situation. He quickly reported back that this girl was indeed in need of help. So we sent in a retrieval team.”

 

“Retrieval team?” The Doctor felt his hand clench into a fist involuntarily. He stuffed it into his pocket and continued his ruse. “What is the protocol of that?”

 

“Our primary concern is that neither the patient, our doctors, nor any bystanders come to harm. To that end, our first action is to chemically restrain the patient from a distance.”

 

“Tranquilizer dart,” the Doctor translated blandly, fury beginning to narrow his vision. Everything Dr. Shote said he’d already been told by Jack, but to hear this toadying little man so calmly speak of assaulting his Rose was enough to eat at his self control.

 

“Indeed,” the psychiatrist continued, ignorant of the battle taking place in the Doctor. “Also, since her companion might object to our taking her we temporarily immobilized him. The force field will have worn off by now. After that, it was a simple matter of extraction.”  


“And the patient? Has she woken up, yet?” the Doctor asked, vowing to himself that if sedatives from this time period had hurt her, this building would be destroyed in literally biblical proportions. He would personally assure that no brick stood upon another.

 

“She has woken and is talking. Her name, as I’ve said is Rose Tyler. She’s being very cooperative.”

 

Despite himself, a curiosity sprung up in the Doctor, “What’s the diagnosis?”

 

“Oh, something I haven’t seen in years. She has acute xenonymphosis.”

 

The Doctor blinked and slightly shook his head. For the first time, everything seemed to have stopped. He couldn’t feel the flow of time, or hear anything but his own heartbeat, and whatever he was looking at failed to register.

 

The Doctor licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed thickly. Praying to every deity he’d ever heard of that he wasn’t misunderstanding, the Doctor asked. “What’s the primary symptom of that disorder?”

 

“Oh, exactly what it sounds like. Rose wants to have sex with an alien.”

 

Before the Doctor’s neurons could remember how to fire, an alarm sounded.

 

“Shit!” Dr. Shote muttered, glancing nervously at the man he believed came from the capital.

 

“What’s that?” the Doctor asked.

 

“A patient has escaped.”

 

*

 

Rose got back to the TARDIS easier than she’d expected. One of the two techs on duty had told the other as he passed Rose’s room that he was going to grab dinner. The other said she’d join him in the break room in 5 minutes. After ten minutes, Rose knew that her TARDIS key was unguarded.

 

It was the work of a moment to jimmy the lock on her door. Having escaped from more places than Houdini, Rose was confident as she hurried down the hall to the room where her shoes and key were still held.

 

After dropping her key around her neck, its warm familiar weight between her breasts a welcome beacon home, Rose pulled her shoes on, hopping in her haste. She glanced up and praised whoever invented the emergency exit signs. A quick examination of the adjoining hallway directed her to a door saying not to open except in emergency as an alarm will sound. She flippantly decided that a misdemeanor being added to her record on this rock would hardly matter as she never intended to come back.

 

Longing to get back to the TARDIS’s welcoming hum, Jack’s rakish smile, and the Doctor’s warm hug and manic grin, Rose pushed the door open. But before her hand touched the door, an alarm sounded. Ignoring it, Rose opened the emergency exit. A different siren began to blare and lights to flash.

 

Not heeding either alarm, or maybe heeding both, Rose ran into the night, dodging into alleyways and darkened streets.

 

*

 

Almost as soon as the first siren sounded, another flared up.

 

“Well, what’s that one, then?” the Doctor demanded. His temper was as short as it had ever been, since these stupid apes had stolen his Rose and lost her in one night. Plus, his head was still reeling from Rose’s indirect admissions, but he hated to admit that such base considerations held sway over him.

 

“Fire alarm,” Dr. Shote said reluctantly. “It’s likely that whoever escaped used an emergency exit to leave.”

 

The Doctor almost laughed aloud. At least Rose was out of this place. “Tell ya what,” he told the miserable psychiatrist. “I’m gonna go to my hotel, say I got stuck in a traffic jam and didn’t get in ‘til after midnight. You get this place quieted down, and I’ll see you in the morning. Pretend I didn’t see all this.”

 

Relief suffused Shote’s face, and the Doctor turned on his heel sharply, no longer having any use for the man. He kept his pace in check as he left the building, but as soon as he felt a breeze on his face, the Doctor broke into a run, making a beeline for the TARDIS.

 

Boots bent woodenly on the pavement. The odd puddle splashed resentfully as he ran heedlessly through them. Street lights were few in an attempt to encourage the citizenry to stay inside at night. But the Doctor was blind to the dark, deaf to the rhythmic pounding and immune to the cold water that splashed his leg. All that mattered was getting to his Rose.

 

Rose had proven how clever she was from the day he’d met her. She’d be heading back to the TARDIS, the only safe place on this miserable rock.

 

He heard a brief patter of feet up ahead and the slam of a wooden door. A brief chide hummed in his mind, though it wasn’t directed at him. To know that the TARDIS deemed Rose healthy enough to be reprimanded for something as trivial as slamming doors did a lot to ease the Doctor’s mind. Had he been in a more playful mood, the Doctor likely would have pretended to be cross with Rose for not treating his ship better just to make her squirm, but he couldn’t play with her, not now.

 

Slamming the door himself, the Doctor ran up the ramp. Rose turned from the console in surprise, relief, and what the Doctor now knew was more than mere affection. He had been hoping for so long now that Rose felt for him a small portion of the heart crushing love that he had been concealing from her, that he had convinced himself that he only saw what he was looking for.

 

He swept her up in a hug, running his hands across her back and down her sides to make sure she was unharmed.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

“What for?” Rose asked, pulling back to search his face.

 

“I got you locked up, again.”

 

“I did that all on my own, thanks.”

 

“No. They thought you were crazy,” the Doctor said mournfully. Rose began to look worried, probably wondering how much he knew. “The only crazy thing about you, Rose Tyler, is that you didn’t realize that I spend a large portion of every minute of every day wishing that I was brave enough to make a move, to tell you how I worship every inch of you, or to simply give in and finally learn what your lips taste like.”

 

For a long time, Rose stood motionless, staring at him. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her heart pounded against his chest. Finally, she licked her lips, a movement that he followed closely. “God, if this is some sort of drug-coma dream, I never want to wake up,” she told him fervently, before pulling him down to devour his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Rose watched him babble beautiful, loving, sexy words. At first, she was bemused. The drugs they’d given her must have put her into a coma. This had to be a dream.

 

And then she realized what was going on. The Doctor wasn’t afraid.

 

He was nervous, sure. By admitting he knew why she’d been locked up, he was changing everything. And by admitting his own desires, he was changing everything in the best possible way. So, yes, he was nervous, she could see, because they could never go back after this.

 

But he wasn’t scared. He knew that she wanted him. He might’ve even realized that she loved him, but she wouldn’t put her money on that. Still, for the first time the Doctor knew she wouldn’t reject him, wouldn’t laugh at him. So, he could be honest.

 

Because he was nervous, the words came pouring out. Because he wasn’t afraid, he spoke the truth. And Rose loved him even more for it.

 

But better safe than sorry. “God, if this is some sort of drug-coma dream,” she muttered. “I never want to wake up.” She pulled him down to attack his lips with her own. She’d wanted this too long, and the adrenaline of his admission was mixing w/ the adrenaline of her escape. This wasn’t going to be gentle. Hell, they might not even make it to a bed.

 

The Doctor pulled away as soon as Rose remembered she needed oxygen. Rose didn’t know how he did that, and she didn’t really care.

 

“Doctor, you should know,” Rose began, needing everything out in the open. “The doctors there were wrong.” She could see his face being to close up and cursed herself for not finding a better way to phrase this. “I don’t _just_ want to have sex with an alien.” She emphasized the word just, hoping he’d catch on. Caressing his jaw line softly, Rose smiled a gentle, loving smile. “I am in love with an alien. Yes, he’s a dead sexy, impressive alien who I want to shag into the carpet, but it’s more than that. He’s the most generous and compassionate person I’ve ever met.” The Doctor tried to protest, but Rose clamped a hand on his mouth, and sternly continued, “And too bloody minded to know when to take a compliment. And I need him to know that I love him before I shag him ‘til he can’t see straight.”

 

The Doctor’s eyes were bright with unshed tears with lust flaring at the edges. “Rose Tyler, he murmured reverently, a tender hand brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You have no idea how much I love you. You can’t do, because I’m learning everyday that I love you more than I thought was possible the day before.” His lips tickled her earlobe, and his hot breath sent fire merrily tripping through her veins. “I’m gonna make you beg for me,” he whispered against her ear before fusing his lips to hers.

 

One large hand spanning across her lower back possessively, the Doctor speared the fingers of his other hand through her hair, anchoring her so that he could take full control of the kiss. For a moment, Rose was overwhelmed by the blatant desire he showed in the dance of their tongues. If introspections were on the menu, Rose would have wondered how they had managed to hide from one another. As it was, she was too busy fighting to explore his mouth as he was exploring hers to care.

 

There was nothing slow or gentle in their actions. They had waited too long to take turns. Rose wanted to know everything about the Doctor, and she wanted to know now. If his actions were any indications, he felt the same.

 

His lips tore from hers, and while she was still dizzy from his delightful assault and its sudden loss, his mouth was her throat, licking and sucking. Her head fell to the side, granting him better access. When he nipped hard enough for an edge of pain to sharpen the pleasure and send wet heat rushing to her core, Rose ground against him, relishing how hard he already was.

 

A second later, Rose was shirtless, and the Doctor’s hands were kneading her breasts through her bra. “Rose,” he hissed. “I thought I could wait.” He broke off panting when she cupped him through his black denim, mapping his length as best she could. “Need you.” He moaned.

 

“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly as he nipped at the hollow of her collar bone. “Now. Please.”

 

His hands skittered over her ribs and around to cup her bum. Hoisted up to the Doctor’s height, Rose wrapped her legs around him. For the first time, the Doctor’s hardness pushed against her center, even if it was through two layers of denim. Wantonly, she pushed against him, seeking more contact, more friction.

 

“Rose, he gasped, she felt his knees buckle beneath them, but he caught himself, his grip around her tight and protective. “Rassilon, but you will be the death of me,” he told her, his forehead pressed against hers as he struggled for control. His steps were clumsy, but Rose knew he’d never drop her. Gently, she was placed on the jumpseat, and immediately the Doctor renewed his onslaught. He bucked sporadically against her while reaching to undo the clasp of her bra.

 

Rose realized that the Doctor intended to fuck her, right here in the consol room. Lust flared through her, followed by a brief flash of clarity.

 

“Doctor,” she started, only to devolve into a moan when his tongue wrapped around her nipple. Rallying what was left of her wits, Rose tried again. “What about…oh god.” The Doctor suckled her breast with abandon. Moaning appreciatively when she ran her fingers over the soft spikes of his close cropped hair. The vibrations sent a buzz shooting from her breast straight to her clit.

 

Oh her last attempt, Rose could only get out one syllable. “Jack,” she insisted. The Doctor fumbled in his coat pocket until he withdrew the sonic screwdriver. Aimed at the front door, it let out a brief buzz before falling silent and dropping back into the pocket of his jacket which then fell to the floor.

 

“I’ll let him in tomorrow,” he whispered against her skin. “I’m sure he can find someplace warm and dry to stay for the night.”

 

Rose nodded absentmindedly, her hands already reaching for the hem of his jumper. His lips found hers in a duel of desire. Before the night was over, Rose intended for the Doctor to know that he was indisputably hers. The way his tongue twined and danced with hers was a clear sign that he wanted to prove that she was his.

 

Her hands had found their way under the wool of his jumper. Her fingers explored the lean muscles of his torso, tickled by the sparse smattering of fine hair that trailed down towards the bulge the pressed insistently against her. The Doctor took a step back. The haze of need and want and Doctor and now that had been settling over Rose’s mind receded enough for her to pout at him. She hooked her heels under his bum and tried to pull him closer. The Doctor grinned savagely at her, but stayed his ground.

 

Then his shirt was gone and the haze was back. She had imagined what he would look like more times than she could remember, and the reality was just as exquisite as she’d dreamed. There was an almost sculpted quality to his lean, rangy muscles that begged to be examined. His work roughened hands fell to his belt buckle and Rose’s mental fog was burned away by a fiery need to see and touch, to be seen and be touched. The Doctor looked up at her, his hands lingering over his belt. Wickedness danced in dark blue gaze. “I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours,” he murmured huskily. Rose shivered and hopped down from the jump seat, her fingers already attacking the button of her jeans.

 

It was an awkward race that both won. They each tried to watch the other as they undressed. Fingers fumbled blindly, muffled curses sounded, but most importantly, clothes were shed. In trying to get rid of his boots, his trousers and pants already around his ankles, the Doctor stumbled. He caught himself on the jump seat, his face inches from a breathless, naked Rose. “To hell with it.” He muttered and crashed his lips against hers. One of his hands came down to caress the skin of her now bare bum.

 

Rose ground against him, pulling him flush against her, reveling in the feel of his skin on hers, his hard planed against her curves, his erection pressing into her belly. As soon as she had been lifted back onto the seat, Rose wrapped her legs around the Doctor, trapping him. Her sodden curls pressed against the underside of his cock.

 

He groaned. “You’re so wet for me.”

 

“Doctor.” She panted, nuzzling the hollow at the base of his throat. It felt like every molecule of liquid in her veins had evaporated from the heat he created in her. And if she didn’t have him now, she’d not only go up in flames, she’d take the TARDIS with her.

 

He trailed a finger through her slit, just glancing her clit. Rose jerked against him, a pleasant tension building in her. With her eyes locked on his every movement, the Doctor cleaned his finger of her juices.

 

He was far too collected for her liking. Rose was out of her senses with need for him, but he seemed to be almost calm in his exploration.

 

She traced a light path from the tip to the base of his cock and back again, swiping a bead of pre-come from his head and sampling him. He tasted like nothing she could describe, and she wanted more.

 

But almost as soon as she touched him, the Doctor’s entire pretense of control snapped.

 

*

 

The Doctor needed so badly to be in Rose, to feel her warmth and passion surround him. He wanted to burrow into her mind and make himself at home; he wanted to dive into her body and feel her muscles try to pull him father in. It was all he could do not to claim her forcefully.

 

Even without establishing a claim, the intimacy of their words and actions had put the Doctor more in tune with her mind than he’d ever dared allow himself to be. Every look that she cast his way was felt as a tangible caress. Images of what she wanted to do to him, what she wanted him to do to her flickered in his mind so quickly, it was hard to tell which came from her and which from him. The Doctor knew that he shouldn’t allow even this much closeness without her permission, but he didn’t know how to stop.

 

As long as he kept control over their contact, as long as Rose was too distracted to retaliate against his onslaught, the Doctor was able to hold back the violent urge to take her. He fought to act more collected than he was, desperate not to scare her. But Rose rebelled against his calm manner, and she found his aching cock, which twitched eagerly in her hand. Her lust flared against his mind when she tasted his seed, and it was his undoing.

 

“Rose,” he panted. “I need…to be in you.” He bit back a moan at the heat that burned in her at his words. “So much I wanted to do to you.”

 

“Later, Doctor. Just fuck me, now.”

 

The Doctor lifted her up a few inches, his fingers digging into her bum, bruising her. He lined up quickly and drove into her in one thrust. For a heartbeat, nothing existed but Rose’s walls clenching around him. He froze, fighting off the explosion within him, fighting to keep from plunging into her mind like he had her body. He couldn’t ask for that. Just because she wanted him, even loved him didn’t mean she was ready to spend her eternity with him, and it didn’t mean she wanted to be with him everywhere, to quite literally carry a piece of him with her.

 

When Rose whispered “Fuck me, Doctor,” in his ear, the Doctor realized that he had been still for over a minute.

 

“Rose,” he moaned, when he pulled nearly all the way out. “Rose,” he panted when he thrust back in so hard that his balls slapped against her. “Rose,” he breathed when she tightened her walls around him.

 

He was trying so hard to concentrate on the physical, to ignore the tantalizing warmth from where he stupidly allowed his mind to brush hers. He almost succeeded. The Doctor was so focused on the push and pull, the slide and the friction that he almost missed Rose’s words.

 

It wasn’t his name in breathy tones that sent him over the edge, it was one word that fell from her swollen lips, almost lost in the tide of need.

 

“Forever.”

 

That one word changed everything.

 

The Doctor stuttered to a stop. Rose whimpered in protest.

 

“Say it again.” He demanded roughly. “Say you want me forever.”

 

“Yes.” Rose said, nodding desperately, trying to encourage him back into moving.

 

“I need to be inside you.” He blurted nervously. Rose glanced down to where he was buried in her pussy to the hilt. “No, your mind. Time Lords are slightly telepathic. And you, all of you, is so beautiful. I want to feel you surround me.”

 

Surprise and love and even lust danced in her mind when she realized what he wanted. Wordlessly, she nodded.

 

“It can’t be undone. And it can’t be hidden. Any telepathic species will know,” the Doctor warned her, anxiety and desire in his eyes. “You will be…mine forever. And I will be yours. Forever.”

 

“My Doctor. Yes,” she whispered across his lips. The Doctor crushed her to him in a punishing kiss and finally slipped inside her mind.

 

*

 

Rose had never before liked the idea of being branded by a man, but that was because she had never thought of herself as belonging to anyone but herself, and she had never wanted to own any of them in return. With the Doctor, she knew she belonged to him just as much as he belonged to her. She would wear his mark with pride.

 

A sense of love and belonging that had tickled her mind many times since she’d started travelling with the Doctor pressed against her with an insistence that it had never exhibited. A brief pain flashed when something snapped on the outside of her mind, but then he was there with her, and for a moment she was overwhelmed.

 

“My Rose,” The Doctor murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. Rose could feel the fierce joy that coursed through him and being able to utter such a possessive phrase, and it warmed her. She smiled. “Open your eyes, precious girl.”

 

Rose’s eyes fluttered open to lock with his. She had always loved the intense blue of his eyes, but to have them focused on her, with his love and affection suffusing throughout her was almost too much.

 

She cupped his cheek and the Doctor leaned into the caress, yearning for her touch despite the wonder he felt at knowing the depth of her love for him.

 

“You do deserve it, my Doctor.” Rose told him when she sensed his flicker of self-doubt. A manic grin spread across his face.

 

“You can feel me.” He murmured in awe, but his lips didn’t move. Rose nodded, her eyes wide. The Doctor kissed her in joy, teasing her lips and tongue. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to.” He told her even as his tongue was sliding past her lips.

 

The kiss quickly turned from playful into something that echoed need and entwined bodies. The lust that had been pushed back by the wonder of being bonded flared into the forefront of their minds. Rose scratched her nails down his back when the Doctor shifted within her, and answered his moan with a whimper as he began to thrust into her. The Doctor bent and took her nipple into his mouth, suckling like a man rediscovering a great love. For a moment, Rose forgot how to breathe.

 

It was like microphone feedback. His lust and arousal and pleasure fueled hers which fed his. When he brought his thumb down to circle her clit, Rose thought she would explode. Her walls clenched around his and she knew he nearly did.

 

Rose felt more complete than she ever had, but still she _needed_.

 

“Doctor” she whined against his neck. Her breath was as shallow as her thoughts. There were no deep currents of philosophy or morality flowing through her brain; no sonnets being composed. All of her was reaching for the peak, and she was reduced to single words even in her mind. “Need. Want,” she panted.

 

The Doctor pressed his thumb a little bit harder against her clit and whispered darkly in her ear. “Come for me, my Rose.”

 

Rose nearly screamed when her orgasm ripped through her. It was like she had been sprinting uphill when someone pulled the ground out from beneath her; she was freefalling through a cloud of love and Doctor and yes.

 

When the Doctor shouted her name, she forced her eyes open, though her body still shook, to see his face, strained with lust and exertion as he finally let himself come. The blinding flash of his orgasm met the dwindling fire of hers and together they went supernova. Rose knew she must have screamed as her body dissolved its tethers from time and space to drift lazily with his in a post-coital fog.

 

There was a thunk and sudden chill, and Rose opened her eyes to see that the Doctor no longer stood in front of her perch on the jumpseat. He sprawled in an undignified heap. His trousers still ‘round his ankles, his quickly softening cock still wet with their juices.

 

“Doctor?”

 

He said nothing, just pushed himself into an sitting position, glaring disgustedly at the universe. She was aware of embarrassment coming off him in waves, and she focused on them. In a flash, she knew why he was currently on the ground, and took a fierce pride in the knowledge that she could make The Last Time Lord’s knees go out.

 

“Well,” she said, sliding off the jumpseat and crouching next to him. He turned his face away, but Rose refused to let his humiliation cast a shadow of the beginning of their bond, not to mention the best sex she’d ever had. She straddled his lap and rubbed against his cock, feeling a small twitch in response, which was more than she expected so soon. “I know of at least one thing we can do that won’t tire out your legs.” A wicked glint in her eye, Rose lifted herself a few inches and then lowered herself in blatant suggestion.

 

For a second, the Doctor’s eyes glazed over, then she was in his arms, and he was running down the corridor to his bedroom. Rose didn’t know how he’d gotten rid of his boots and trousers, and she didn’t care. She simply laughed in delight at the love she had for this beautiful man, and the love he had for her. They must have been crazy to wait this long.


End file.
